Golden Shades and Black Ink Stains
by Sbleny22
Summary: After an untimely end, Blaine finds out death actually leads to an entirely different life, one that involves being the guardian angel to the troubled soul that is Kurt Hummel. AU. Klaine.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I've had this idea floating in my head for a while now and I finally found the time to get it down.  
>This is a universe that I thought of for about a year now and I finally found the two characters that I think would fit it well.<br>So, enjoy and tell me what you think.**

"_The wings of angels are often found on the backs of the least likely people." ~ Eric Honeycutt _

You see that girl or boy with wings tattooed on their back? You probably think nothing of it other than that their back will never be the same again.

You never would have thought that person was an angel, or even maybe a demon.

Welcome to the world of Angels and Demons, where they invade your mind and provide the sweet dreams you have every night, following the simple code:

Angels for plead  
>Demons for pleasure.<p>

As the lineage is passed down from generation to generation the job and its rules are still the same:

How do you become and Angel? To put it simply, you are born with it. It's a family line. Your parents give you up as a baby to a family in need. You die at an early age, usually from 16-25, and when you wake up you get to meet your true family, leaving your old life behind completely as you start your run as an angel.

The second you become an angel, your age freezes. The only way to stop it is to get married have kids. Once you have passed down your powers to one of your own, time starts up again. When you get old enough you will die, and when you die then, you're gone forever.

Throughout your run you are first assigned as an angel. If you break any of the following laws you are a demon, unless you choose to be one. Once you are a demon, you can never become an angel again.

Angels are assigned one person whose dreams you watch over. Your job is for not to give them a nightmare, having the power to manipulate the dream any way you want to. You can manipulate everything in the dream, including yourself, except for the dreamer. If they wind up with a nightmare you are assigned a new person or, worst case scenario, become a demon.

With communication with you assignment you may ONLY go by the name Angel. You may not share your human information over a dream. If this happens, we can give you another person immediately.

If an angel becomes too attached to a certain assignment, and we catch wind of this, we can change your person at any chance we get.

You are only allowed to meet your assignment ONCE and only ONCE in human form. And when such occurrence happens, you WILL be assigned a new person. If you fail to do so, you will be stripped of your angel powers and forced to change your human name and location and start a new life, one forced away from your assignment.

In this world Angels do not serve God and Demons do not service the Devil.

God and Satan just simply don't exist in this world.

But, shush, the Humans don't have to know that.

Meet Blaine Anderson.

Blaine never chose to be born into the most famous of Angel lines, that just_ happens_. With his brother already a demon, Blaine has had pressure put on him to be his parent's perfect little angel. But with a questioning sexuality and him becoming a demon way to low for his standards, he doesn't really know how he's going to stick with this responsibility much longer.

That was until he got his new assignment.

Meet Kurt Hummel.

Kurt is lonely. Bullied everyday for his sexuality and his _not so manly_ choices, Kurt really doesn't have that many friends in real life. He needs an escape that doesn't involve some kind of harm to his body and his dad really isn't the best mentor on things. But when he's asleep, all his problems seem to go away, as he escapes into his own little dream world.

When he's asleep he meets Blaine.

**Chapter 1:**

It was simple, really. Just pick up the milk after school and give it to Blaine father in ways on convincing him to go out to a concert that night.

The rain was crashing down on the window, the wipers squeaking at every movement, so Blaine just turned up the radio to drown out the noise. The lights of the car in front of him were blinding compared to the dark sky, and the slickness of the roads weren't helping that much, either.

But he's determined, so he taps his fingers on the steering wheel along to the beat of the song as he pulls into the space in front of the roadside convenience store.

Blaine never really stopped at this place before, but he was on his way home and he knew that the grocery store in his town was pricing Oreos for $5, so he didn't even bother. He was a bit hesitant, though, since he heard from his friend Jeff that this place was filled with "douchebag high school dropouts" but he thought it was better to let the worse of the rain pass. His license was fresh but his skills were rusty.

The employee at the counter looked bored out of his mind, snapping his gum just so the sound of it could keep him awake on the job. A boy that looked no older than 17 approached the counter with a six pack. The employee never batted an eye as he accepted at $50 bill. Blaine put that in the back of his mind for future notice.

Blaine walked up and down the aisles on a mission. Milk. He needed Milk. Two percent and he was two percent closer to convincing his dad to let him go to that concert. He put his hands in his jean pockets and searched.

To his surprise the refrigerated section was just where he thought it might be. He passed dozens of containers of ice cream, frozen dinners, and carbonated beverages. He even passed a young and nicely dressed boy looking though the flavored waters while he heard the words "those are 40 extra calories I don't need" being muttered out of the boy's mouth as the boy put back the strawberry flavored drink. Blaine just laughed to himself and kept walking.

He finally found the milk a couple of doors down, smiling to himself as he picked up the plastic container with the green label and made sure the expiration date would be up to his father's standards. He really didn't feel like going back out again, especially since the time on his Rolex indicated that he really needed to get going.

As he shut it closed he heard the sound of multiple food items falling rather than the sound that came with the closing of a refrigerator door. "Faggot" he heard being said as he turned his head to the aisle he passed before that thought he remembered having all of the chips. Over the shelves he could see two husky boys with letterman jackets on. Blaine's muscles tensed as he made his way to the counter.

"Don't touch the bottle Azimo. The fairy probably sprinkled his dust on it" He heard the voice of the other jock. Blaine picked up his speed and practically threw the milk onto the counter as he heard the snickers of the large boys as they exited the road side store and got into their truck.

Blaine let out a shaky breath as the employee over the counter rung up the price. "That would be $1.50" he said already putting his hand out. Blaine, thankful to be let out of his trance, handed the money over willingly.

"Hey" Blaine asked, getting the employee's attention. "Can I ask you something?"

"Fire away" Chad, according to his name tag, said as he snapped his gum and rolled his eyes at the same time. Oh what talent.

"How do you let stuff like..." Blaine turns around to the well dressed boy on the ground that now has his arms wrapped around his knees, burying his head in the open space. "Like that happen?"

"For your information we're 7-11, not the police". A louder snap follows.

Blaine just looks at the clock above the counter and leaves, running as fast as his "shorter than most" legs could take him out to his car to avoid his hair from getting wet as he knew his curls we're hard to manage, even in a normal setting. He turns the keys in the ignition, making the engine of his brand new birthday present to roar, the BMW's lights shining on the window of the store. He pulls out quickly and makes his way onto the main road, turning up the radio to drown out the thoughts of the hurting boy. He does allow himself, though, to wonder what the boy looks like, because to him well kept clothing should result in a well kept face. He learned that from Adam about a week into their relationship.

The song ended and the usual radio hosts started their segment, a talk hour Blaine actually liked to listen to. "Before we start today's discussion," one of them began "sorry to those folks looking to go to the concert at the Ohio Pavilion tonight. The band just confirmed that they will do a rain check for the safety of their fans since most roads are close to being shut down. How sweet"

Pissed, Blaine let his short fuse of a temper get to him and slammed his right foot on the gas pedal sending him in the middle of the intersection.

His father always told him never to drive near a truck when on the road. Their brakes are horrible and most drivers are so hyped up on energy drinks so they can get to their destination faster that they have limited vision, like a horse racing in the Kentucky derby.

Poor Blaine was just in the innocent truck driver's way.

You know that feeling when you're seconds away from death?

When your stomach drops and you feel like you're falling into an endless pit of despair.

When it feels like your heart is beating faster than it ever could, the sound echoing in your brain.

When you have the sudden urge to cry, thinking that crying will make your problems go away.

When your life flashes before your eyes, looking back on all the accomplishments you did, giving yourself a _final_ judgment.

When you start to think positive that a miracle may come your way, and maybe, _just maybe_, you will survive.

And then you close your eyes in acceptance, thinking that if God takes you now, then it's your time.

The rain did wind up messing up his curls that day, but, well, so did the blood.

Blaine opened up his eyes, blinking to adjust to the light in the hospital.

Except this wasn't a hospital.

It was his bedroom.

"Wakey Wakey Blainey" he heard an unfamiliar voice cooing as he shot his eyes open to see an older boy at the foot of his bed. Blaine sat up to see the other smiling, "Finally woke up there? You had a long nap."

Blaine just furrowed his brows "Was I in a coma?" he yawned as he looked over his whole body to find an alarming amount of zero bruises. "And, may I ask, who are you?"

"Mom! Dad!" the stranger called to the door. "He's awake!"

Oh finally, his mom and dad coming to fix up this mess and explain what the hell was going on.

Too bad the people at the door weren't the people he called his parents. The fact that they were approaching the bed did make Blaine freak out a bit.

"Oh son" his "mother" says as she reached one side of the bed and hugged him tightly. She had olive skin, messy curly hair and looked to be about 40. "You have your father's eyes"

"But he looks like you." his "father" states. Blaine turns to the man on the other side of him. He had paler skin than his wife but was around her age. He had blond hair that was similar to the shade of his "brother" at the foot of his bed. But it was true; Blaine did have similar eyes to this man.

"Who are you people?" Blaine whispers as he wraps his arms around himself, tuning out the voices of the unfamiliar faces.

Yesterday, Blaine Warbler died in a car accident leaving his entire life behind him.

Today Blaine woke up to his to real family, finding out his whole life was a lie and that he is actually part of the Anderson lineage of angels.

But Blaine didn't know that yet.

So he did what any confused boy would do in a situation like this and pushed the covers off himself and bolted to the door to his room, pulling it open with such great force that his brother made the comment of "I didn't expect him to be that strong for such a short stop" when he thought Blaine was out of earshot.

For all he knew these people were actors, and his family was fooling him (his dad was known for being a cocky bastard) so when he went out into the hallway of his house, he expected to his the loud laugh of his father through the house.

Too bad that all he wound up hearing in the unfamiliar hallway was silence.

"Where am I?" He whispered to himself as his eyes widened, taking in the sights around him. This wasn't his house. It was bigger, feeling almost triple the size of Blaine's old arrangements, the walls a different shade of brown than he was used too, and where was supposed to be cheerful and fun pictures of the family, now lining the walls were paintings and artifacts.

Curious, Blaine walked up to one of the paintings. It was one of a King that Blaine presumed to be about 200 or so years old. Unlike his usual self, Blaine didn't seem too interested into the man's clothing or jewels, but what actually struck him were the set hazel eyes boring into his own.

They matched his perfectly.

Blaine's body tensed as he felt a hand on his shoulder. "It's a lot to take in, I know." He turned around to meet his "father", another man with eyes like his own. "I almost wound up hitting my parents because of how scared I was."

Blaine shrugged the hand off his shoulder and backed away. "What are you even talking about?"

The man just sighed. "Come with me" He gestured as he walked down the opposite end of the hallway. Blaine just followed, not wanting to get left behind. They walked together at a moderate pace, Blaine mesmerized by all of the pictures lining the walls while his father was staring at Blaine, taking in the sights of his son for the first time. He then stops in the middle, catching Blaine a little off guard, but the man felt like he had to say something now before it was too late. "My name is James Anderson and despite what you may believe, I am your father."

The boy just laughed "No you're not. My father's name is Joseph Warbler." He crossed his arms in defense.

"I don't know how exactly to tell you this, but Blaine" James put his hand on his son's shoulder. "You're what we call an angel."

The boy laughed even louder. "You'd think with all the shit I pull, I'd be going to hell." He rubs his neck as he realizes the man in front of him hasn't changed his expression. "So, are all of these pictures of God or saints, or something?" he rubs the back of his neck.

"There is no God, or Satan. Angels aren't really like that." It was the man's turn to laugh.

"What exactly are they like?" he raises an eyebrow.

The man then turns around to pick up a book from the shelf behind him and hands it to his son. "Why don't you find out yourself?"

Blaine looks at the book, its leather cover smooth, the title having a sort of glow to it. "_The Rules of Angels and Demons_." Blaine reads it aloud. "I _must_ be dreaming" he mumbles as he flips through the worn out pages which turn out to be surprisingly minimal.

"Not until you're ready." His father smiles to himself. "Now read up. You're going to need to know most of that by tonight" James starts to walk down the hallway and before Blaine knows it he's disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

><p>You would think that a second chance at life in which you get told you practically have the powers of a God would make a person happy?<p>

Well Blaine thought that at first, too.

That was until he read that rule book.

The first thing the book told him as that he had to attend his own funeral.

"You literally bury your past forever." His dad told him "It really helps you understand your future."

So the day after waking up Blaine was shoved into a van with tinted windows and was driven to his local church wearing the suit he was supposed to wear to his school's winter formal.

Funny how the kid in the casket was wearing the exact same thing.

He, his dad and his brother all sat in the last pew of the church where they couldn't be seen.

Blaine had to watch his former father stutter through a eulogy, where he mentioned he was going to tell him the day after that concert that he was actually adopted. The man almost broke down when he said how even though they were practically blood related, the medical report didn't determine that, and he wasn't able to have blood transfusion in time.

Blaine fought back a sob and turned to his actual father about ready to punch him in the face when his brother, who he just learned was named Kyle about an hour ago, squeezed his hand and mouthed an apology.

Blaine liked Kyle.

They got along well as they both really liked to talk about the hypocrisy if this whole process.

"Maybe I don't want to help people." Kyle said as he relaxed on his bed the day after, Blaine sitting on the plush carpet of his brother's bedroom. "We can't all fucking live in la la land."

Blaine envied Kyle.

Because Kyle found a way out.

Kyle didn't have the best life back in the human world. He was sent to an older upper class family and was practically raised by his nanny. Kyle got everything ever asked for with a snap of his fingers, but it never was enough. With lack of parental supervision, he got into the darker crowds earlier in life, and soon became the ring leader of his boarding school's cocaine trade. At one party he just took it too far, and his friends were too scared of getting busted that no one called for help until it was too late.

"I never had an Angel. No way in hell I was going to be someone else's little helper"

After a week on Angel training, Kyle had enough and applied to be a Demon.

For those of you who don't know, Demons are the prostitutes of the dream world. If you ever had a wet dream with a certain someone, you were probably with a Demon who looks nothing like them.

"You might change your face but you're not forced to call yourself "Demon" the entire time. It's practically like a Halloween party."

The book made out to Blaine that Demons were the more evil side of the culture, as they sold their bodies each night, taking advantage of their power. But what he learned from Kyle is that Demons aren't really evil.

They just like to have more fun.

Demons are risk takers.

"The best part is, instead of that bull crap that you have to have children to start aging, you age every two years instead of just one. Once you've completed your thirtieth year, you're done"

Blaine just envies Kyle to have the strength to even stoop that low just to get a quick way out.

"No one wants to fuck anyone over 30. Not even in their dreams"

Kyle laughs.

Blaine shudders.

"No way in hell I'm giving life to a kid that ends up with a life like I had. I'm not that cruel."

The second thing the book told Blaine was that his training consisted of going into a dream of someone he had a close relationship with as a human.

"I chose my nanny. I just thanked for making me feel like I had a mother."

Blaine chose his now ex boyfriend.

Adam seemed delighted to see him. Then entire dream was just them on a bed smiling and holding each other. No kisses, No touches, just drinking each other in for the last time.

He ended it by telling Adam to move on.

It was the farthest thing from a nightmare Adam could imagine, but Blaine's parents weren't at al pleased.

The Andersons were a powerful line of Angels, producing top of the line humans in history spread throughout their heritage. The latest of the ancestry would want that to continue that tradition, right?

But since Kyle killed their dreams, Blaine was the next in line.

"Before I made my decision, they told me how much they wanted a grandson."

So James wasn't too pleased of what he observed during Blaine's training.

"I never told them I was bi-sexual, they found that one out on their own. It does come in handy in the Demon business, though."

Blaine realized he was gay at age 13. He snuck into a high school party with his friends and got roped into playing spin the bottle. During Blaine's turn the bottle landed on Abby, a senior who pretty much about every single boy in her class wanted to get with. During Joseph's turn, the bottle landed on Blaine. After the game ended, Joe dragged Blaine to a closet and he pretty much came to an understanding of his sexuality.

He just hasn't mentioned that story to James yet.

"The best thing, though, are these sick wings. I've been meaning to get a tattoo for a while but I was a pussy when it came to needles. But this, no pain required."

The third thing the book said was that you could always tell who was an Angel or a Demon by checking their backside.

So every single day Blaine woke up and saw a pair of Black Angel wings on his back in the mirror. They were beautiful, Blaine even admired them at first, but they soon became a reminder.

A reminder how it was his job to please his parents and somehow fulfill their wishes of some sort of grandchild.

A reminder of how he was pulled out of a dream and into this nightmare.

A reminder how he has to spend all he can helping people or else become a sex slave.

The wings became a reminder of how he couldn't pray to any God or Devil for help.

He was on his own now.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Well hello there. I'm back. Sorry for the long delay but college applications and school are to blame for that, but that's out of the way now, thank god. A thank you to those who put this on alerts and to those who have reviewed.**

**So here we are, chapter 2, where we get to meet a boy named Kurt Hummel.**

**Warnings: hospitals, suicidal thoughts, and natural disasters. **

**I don't own these people. Wish I did, though. Sigh. **

The waiting room at the town's local hospital is usually occupied with a whole range of people, from every race, to shape, to size, to personality. As Linda waits for her sister's news, she thinks that they could probably make a decent TV show out of this, as every reaction in here seems to be completely genuine.

The doctor enters in with a clipboard

"It's a boy"

She smiles.

She wonders what he would look like. Brown hair like her mother's? Blue eyes like her brother's?

Maybe he would look like that boy passing by on the way to the elevator, looking ready to take on the world with an optimistic outlook.

But, despite that belief, Kurt Hummel hates a lot of things.

He's what people would call a pessimist.

He's on a completely different spectrum than Linda.

One thing Linda didn't know was that Kurt Hummel hates hospitals.

He thinks they're morbid and distasteful. He once said that if he ever woke up from a traumatic accident, the last thing he would want to be welcomed with were the walls of the brightest shade of white to exist in the spectrum lined with a tacky border and your ass exposed in hospital clothing that should never ever be grouped with the word "gown".

The beep of the machine that was next to him only heightened his senses. It kept him awake at night, the tormenting noises now etched in his brain every second of every day.

Plus, all he could ever think of was that little plastic baggie in the corner of his dresser drawer labeled "Just In Case"

Because another thing Kurt hates is pain.

He hates scratches, almost faints at the most miniscule sight of blood, and absolutely dreaded the sight of his doctor holding a syringe since he could scream for his mommy.

He hates the way bruises form on his skin after multiple dumpster throws and locker tosses succeed in flying over the principle's head and his oh so famous anti-bullying policy. It dampers his mood that every time he looks in the mirror and see's them, it feels as if they branded the words "I'm gay, kick my ass" into his soft flesh.

Kurt also hates that pretty much everything that went right in his life has backfired.

The shoulder he used to cry on left this world at age 8. His father's lap still never feels the same.

He tried to get himself closer to the only boy he liked in his school by setting up their widowed parents. Too bad he wound up calling Kurt a faggot, almost costing his father happiness because of his lifestyle choices.

He tried impressing his father, willing to ditch the Dior and butch it up, trying to be the manliest his dad had ever seen him. He wound up dating the school's resident slut and after his dad caught him making out with her, he asked her what boys tasted like.

Probably better than the mixed taste of Tylenol and Advil being shoved down your throat.

I guess the only thing that ever actually went his way was that his father actually accepted him for what he was.

Too bad the other people calling his phone anonymously screaming gay slurs through the line did not.

His dad was his rock, his home, and was the only thing that kept him going all of these years.

And now that he was in the hospital after suffering a heart attack over a month ago, putting him into a coma that no one was sure he would ever wake up from, Kurt only had one thought on his mind:

If his dad goes, he's going right after him.

He hated that the thought came so easily to him, and even though Kurt was begging a God that he didn't even believe in for his father to be alive and well, there was a small part of him that would rather he didn't.

"I would make everyone else happy, right? I can give them what they've always wanted."

One thing Kurt _did_ like was talking to people that weren't there

"You can't be judged if no one is there to actually judge you"

It was either that or college.

Two more years and bunch of applications later, he could be on a plane to a city, any damn city, to start his life over in a more accepting place with successful career options.

"My guidance counselor thinks it would be better to go to a new school."

They also told him the same thing about highschool.

Two years and he can make a life for himself or two days and end it before he might fail.

The hand Kurt was grasping moved.

"Two more years" He mumbled to himself. "I can do it."

After the rush of doctors shoved him out of the room and countless begging from them for him to sleep in his bed rather than a plastic chair, he grabbed his car keys and left.

The drive home was short. It was a routine by now.

He walks through the doors and heads to his bedroom. Once inside, he pulls open the drawer on his dresser and rips his clothes out.

He's found it: the plastic baggie of all different colored pills.

Just In Case.

"Almost look like candy"

He puts them back in the far corner of the drawer.

"Maybe next time"

A couple of weeks later his dad goes through his drawers looking for clothes to add to the new laundry pile when he stumbles across the bag.

He inspects it.

He puts it back.

He doesn't ask.

He doesn't have to ask.

He just listens to his son's advice to take it slow when it comes to his favorite foods packed with sodium.

Two weeks later Kurt is enjoying a typical Friday night with for himself: a marathon of his favorite musicals as he clutches his pillow. Tonight's theme? Judy Garland, and currently, her starring role In the Wizard of Oz.

One time a girl told him he could be the Judy Garland to her Barbra Streisand. That girl happened to be Rachel Berry, Mckinely's Glee Club's star singer who once caught Kurt singing to himself in a choir room he once thought was empty. He kindly declined her offer to join the club after a few persuasive arguments. Word on the street was that she's a diva hoping to perform on the Great White Way somewhere in her future. The fact that she has two gay dads made her feel that she was obligated to ask Kurt to take part in her journey, but Kurt isn't stupid. He knows that there are 1,000 more Rachel Berrys in New York City waiting for their big break hoping they don't spend their entire lives as waitresses in a café or a Diner.

See, the Glee Club is the lowest of the low on Mckinely's food chain, even lower than Kurt himself. They get the daily red cups of doom (the cheerleaders call them Slushy Facials) every day, a cold bitch slap bringing them back into suburban Ohio reality. No way in Hell was Kurt risking the chance of getting hit by one of those any day.

At least those kids had each other.

Another thing Kurt Hummel hated was the fact that he was practically alone in this world.

To Kurt Hummel there is a difference between being "lonely" and being "alone".

"Lonely" means that you're missing someone else, someone who loves you or who loved you, or someone you still care for and think about.

Being "alone" means you have to fight for yourself by yourself. It means that people don't care, that they forget you and leave you be. You have no one else to face those battles with you, forced to battle your inner demons solo as people watch and laugh.

And though Kurt hated being alone, he was used to it all the same.

"It's not the fact that nobody wants to hang out with me on a Friday night, but that they turn the other cheek whenever I get slammed into a locker or get called an offensive slur. They're either too chicken to help or too sad to watch."

But today there are no jocks or cheerios or even teachers. He's not in his school's parking lot, or its halls, or its classrooms.

He is in his bedroom as he watches the wind roar as it pushes off the sections of the roof above him, flicking them away piece by piece, shingle by shingle. All he can do is watch in horror as what is left of his life is drifting away in the breeze.

"Holy. Fucking. Shit."

Kurt Hummel hates cursing. He thinks it's vulgar and low class, something in life he's not aiming to be.

But when you wake up to something like this, your mindset seems to change. Like the fact that he's now praying to a God that he never even thought existed until about two seconds ago, to spare his life.

Funny, how at the moment you realize you can't control your fate, your instincts kick in and will make you do whatever it takes to stay alive.

Those pills never did float away. He could just take them now, sit on his bed, and wait till the storm passes and takes him away.

It does cross his mind, but so does his dad, and he decides that if any sort basic survival skills emerge, his dad's life was valued way more than his. So he runs downstairs to fetch his father in hopes he didn't have another heart attack due to the shock of the sudden conditions.

He finds his dad sleeping in his usual spot on the couch, his feet up as he relaxes on the recliner, the TV still on, displaying the scores of the day's football game. A tornado warning flashes across the bottom of the screen in small red print.

"Dad! Wake up!" Kurt screams to get his father moving. "Dad!" he nudges his father's arm. "Why won't you budge god dammit!"

He gets a loud snore in response.

With no other options Kurt runs outside to see if he can get any help in this mess, hoping the siren he keep on hearing is actually a police car or an ambulance and not actually Lima's regulated tornado warning.

His clothes cling to his skin as he takes in the world around him. The sky is a dark, clouds covering up the sun's existence turning the surrounding area into a sickly gray. Most houses on the street are completely or partially destroyed with debris lining the streets and the air around him. The tree on his front lawn is impaled with a piece from a white picket fence. The tree on his neighbor's lawn as a car joined with it.

"We are so screwed"

With no living or breathing human being in sight, he goes to run inside of his house in an effort to wake is dad out of his slumber.

Well, he _was_.

"Duck!"

That was _not_ his voice.

He wasn't pushing himself to the ground.

A body lies on top of Kurt as he watches his other neighbor's BMW fly straight into the first floor of his house. He looks on with tears in his eyes as the foundation crumbles and his entire house falls to pieces.

"Dad?" he croaks out.

The weight on top of him is lifted, but Kurt stays on the ground. His home, his _everything_, is just sitting there, memories in a heap of rubble surrounded by dust about to float way in the wind and all he could do is stare in hopes that his father will eventually emerge from the pile.

The baggie of pills lies on top, like a king sitting of his throne. It calls his name and tried to persuade him into giving in.

He stretches his hand out to reach for hit, but instead another, more masculine hand pulls him off of the ground.

Clad in a jeans, a simple wife beater, and a, black, leather jacket, a boy a no older than himself stands in front of him. He looks like he's trying to be tough, a hero even, but Kurt can see the fear in his hazel eyes. Well, what he could see if his dark curly hair pushing against his forehead wasn't getting in the way.

"Who-"

"We need to go!" The stranger shouts over the howling winds looks at Kurt. "There's a house that has a cellar a block down. If we can get down there, we'll be fine."

Kurt gives the stranger a questionable look. How could he trust someone he didn't even know?

"You need to trust me."

Well, _damn_.

The stranger offers his hand to Kurt. "I'm here to help you."

Help.

He hasn't heard that word in _years_.

So he took it.

"Okay, just don't let go and be aware of the world around you."

The stranger pulls Kurt down the streets through the various twists and turns, avoiding everything that the storm throws at them with ease as Kurt grips on to his hand for dear life, watching his memories fade away with each passing seconds. The streets were lined with shards of glass, lined with holes where street signs should have been. The worst, in his eyes, was the fact that the cement was splattered with blood, the shadows giving it an eerie shade.

They get to the house the stranger intended on later than he expected, only to be shoved down into a cellar after catching a quick glance of the oncoming tornado ripping through the dark sky.

Blaine quickly closes the door behind him and with one unnoticeable glow, fashions a heavy lock to keep the door shut tight.

He soon rejoins his new project the basement.

"What is going on?" Kurt shouts, trying to do his best to understand what is occurring in the world around him.

"You calm down and it stops." The stranger says to him as he crosses his arms, frustrated at his new assignment. First days were always the worst, and the easiest to fail. He just had to learn what makes the boy tick.

"I can't." He whispers holding his body and burying his face in his knees."My house…" he was hyperventilating. "Got broken up... And… And... I almost died." Kurt Hummel never did well under pressure. That's why everything in his life, from his meals to his weekly outfit schedules, was always planned well in advance.

The stranger sighs and walks over to the boy on the floor. He kneels down and puts his hands on the other's shoulder in means to get his fear to subside, but the poor boy's head immediately jerks up and Blaine finds himself staring into wide blue eyes. He was so fragile and nervous, and innocent boy thrown into a mad world. "It's going to be okay." Blaine says with a smile. "But that will only happen if you calm down."

"No…" the boy starts shaking as he closes his eyes. "Everyone is dead." He looks to the floor for a second before screaming "I should be dead!" Soon both boys turn their head to the heavy cellar door as it crashes open, the wind picking up and howling even louder than before.

_Bingo _

Blaine just sighs as he slips off his jacket and hands it to the delicate boy, who only has his eyebrow raised as he sees the ink staining the stranger's flesh peeking out from under the cloth of his tank top. "Here, hold this while I take care of this mess, but for now, try and calm down"

"Wait!" the boy shouts after the other man walking towards the storm. "You're going to get us both killed."

"Just stand back. This looks like it's going to be messy" The stranger puts his hand out to Kurt as he freezes. "Trust me; I know what I'm doing." He winks, which makes the boy's jaw drop as the stranger walks closer to the door.

Kurt just backs into the wall and clutches the leather jacket for comfort. His eyebrows arch as he soon see's a faint shine from under the stranger's tank top and his eyes travel to the tattoo which is now glowing a gold like shade. "Are you okay?" He says softly, curious at the other's actions.

"Just stand back" Blaine calls from over his shoulder and Kurt's eyes go wide as he sees the man's eyes glowing now the same shade as backside. Kurt just nods and closes his eyes, too scared to see some sort of surprise in front of him.

When Kurt gets nervous his breathing is always heavy. He can feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest. He can hear the noise of it pounding in his ears.

Wait.

He can hear it.

Kurt eyes burst open at the sound. He can hear himself again. No howling winds, no crashes, no booms, no destruction.

Just silence

The storm was over.

"You want to come outside?" The stranger says, which makes Kurt open his eyes to see a hand outstreached towards him. He just nods and takes the welcoming hand which feels very dry and cracked against Kurt's own moisturized skin. He leads him out into the open air, never letting go of the boys hand, and when Kurt finally sees what's outside, his grip only gets tighter.

There it was: his little middle of nowhere town of Lima, in pieces. Wood was scattered, trees we're fallen, and dust everywhere you looked. He almost cried when he saw the rainbow. _Oh how ironic, _he thought. "I feel like I'm in the wizard of Oz" he whispers.

"Well did you watch that before you fell asleep?" The stranger asks, which only confuses Kurt. "You _do_ know that you're dreaming, right?" He chuckles to himself.

_Oh… _"This isn't real?" Kurt questions him.

"I thought you guys remembered falling asleep, still?" He laughs quietly.

_You guys? _Kurt raises an eyebrow and pulls his hand away from the stranger's. "Who are you?" He crosses his arms, thinking that if he's stubborn maybe this boy will try and go away.

They always do.

"Name's Angel." Blaine says as he stretches his hand out in a greeting as he smiles. Kurt doesn't use any means to take it. "Oh c'mon. I'm your only friend out here." He winks, which almost makes Kurt forget to breathe for a second. "Don't be like that, Kurt."

"How do you know my name?" Kurt says taking a step back.

"This is _your_ dream." He snickers. First days, they're the most amusing, too.

"Are you real?"

"Well… That's a complicated one."

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Since this is _my_ dream, you should probably answer _my_ questions."

"Shouldn't you be thanking me?" Blaine crosses his arms now. If Kurt wanted to be a bitch, well sure as hell he could too. "I kind of saved your ass back there"

"Oh please, I could take care of myself." Kurt turns around and stomps away. _Just leave me alone_, he thought. When he gets to a far enough distance, he, in Kurt Hummel fashion, turns his head to this "Angel" guy to make a snarky comment he knows would make the boy furious. He opens his mouth only to find no one behind him. "Huh?"

"You can't just walk away from me, you know?" Kurt turns his head to have his eyes meet directly with Blaine's, his face only inches away from his. Just as Kurt falls back he sees the other's eyes glow again, like in the basement, and he falls onto a soft couch.

"How…" Kurt stutters in defeat. "How did you do that?" He crosses his arms again.

Before Blaine could answer the wind starts to pick up again and dust is soon flying around him. Both of their eyes go wide at the sudden change. _It's over_, "That answer will have to wait until tomorrow" Blaine shouts before he turns into the dust around him and he flies away with the vast currents of the wind.

"Angel?" Kurt whispers, as he realizes that his once savior is now gone. "Angel!" He shouts as he stands up, trying to scout for the stranger though the dust. That is, before a piece of broken off fence comes his way and he wakes up with wide eyes and sweat all over his body.

He was so _not_ looking forward to a morning shower.

**A/N: So there you go, Chapter 2. Hope you enjoyed the ride. Reviews would be appreciated, I loves me some feedback.**

**PS: Anyone get to see Darren on Broadway? I wound up going twice and I thought he did fantastic. The kid really blew me away. What were your thoughts?**


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